The Sound of Silence
by gusenitsa
Summary: It was a dangerous line of work, needling the Terrier, but it was worth it to watch her cheeks grow pink and her fists clench. She stood up for herself, of course, told him more times than he could possibly count that she wasn't his doxie, wasn't his lovey. So why now was her voice disappearing ?


Beka Cooper had never been a talkative mot, instead giving the impression that there was so much more to hear if you could only listen hard enough. It drew him in, made him desperate to hear her voice. So he poked and prodded and needled and fiddled until she burst out into colorful promises (threats) and (not so pleasing) contact.

It was a dangerous line of work, needling the Terrier, but it was worth it to watch her cheeks grow pink and her fists clench. She stood up for herself, of course, called him old which he wasn't particularly fond of. She told him more times than he could possibly count that she wasn't his doxie, wasn't his lovey. Most people just ignored his endearments, but Beka couldn't seem to let them slide, (and who was he to keep her from fixating on what endearments he called her in any given day.) Then he'd kiss her and for a moment he would feel the passion shift, could near taste the potential... and he'd have a new bruise to add to her collection. Trickster knows he'd probably gotten as many bruises from the feisty Terrier than he'd gotten from his time as the Rogue, that took some doing. Each one was a badge of honor, a testament to the moment of her trembling lips it had bought him. He loved nothing more than catching her in her natural element, on watch, perhaps when she was fetching some too slow rusher whom he would have to worry about later.

"Are you making my life difficult again?" He asked her, smirking in satisfaction as she jumped to face him, the rusher she had been chasing taking her distraction as a chance to bolt.

"It's not a good idea to sneak up on a Dog, Rosto," she cried using anger to mask her surprise, "It'll get you hurt or hobbled, or both."

"Not nice to tease, luv, you're all talk."

"Try me, Rosto. Give me a reason," she said all fire and ice and that lovely flushed shade.

He just laughed though and she forgot her shyness to straighten up and glare directly at him.

"Don't bite lovey... not here anyway, has anyone ever told you that you've lovely eyes when you look at a cove straight?"

"Perhaps someone has," she smirked "I'm still not your lovey, Rosto, and you've got no business worrying about that."

She turned to leave and he moved in front of her "You could do worse than having the Rogue worrying you." That got her cheeks flaming again but she caught herself and pretended to consider; "Yes..." she said thoughtfully, "could be two Rogues." She disappeared back into the streets where she had left her partner and Rosto laughed as he walked the other way. He really shouldn't tease the puppy while she was on watch. It always seemed to make more trouble for him down the line. Not surprisingly he discovered that she finished her watch by breaking a new record for number of rats hobbled in an hour. Of course she did; and that night she ate dinner with Aniki and Kora in the dove (he would swear she was gloating.)

Eventually she left the dove with only a small smirk sent in his direction before she left. Oh yes, she was most certainly gloating. He slipped out the side to meet her before she could make it back to the boarding house.

He called out to her "I'm in need of some advice."

She paused back still turned to him, then slowly turned around, a contemplative look on her features, before she smiled and said "Go respectable, you'll live longer."

"Most probably true, but at the moment I'm more concerned about a professional problem. You see, I think the coves I have working for me must be getting sloppy."

She turned to walk again a stoic expression on her face. "It's probably not those coves you need to worry about." Glancing around briefly she whispered "It probably comes from the leadership."

He looked warily around them, his teasing look dropping for a moment before he realized that no one was nearby.

"You know comments like that could get me killed."

"Only if someone hears them. Shy-not-stupid, remember. I think your tendency to take a break from your court to walk a Dog back to her boarding house is a far more hazardous habit," she continued, something dangerously like sincerity in her eyes.

"Most likely," he sighs dramatically holding the door to the boarding house open for her with a bow. "I just can't help being chivalrous-"

He didn't get much further because Beka made a most unladylike snort of laughter and Rosto put on his best hurt expression.

"I know you better than that, Master the Piper, now get back to your court before someone sees your throne getting dusty."

* * *

He thought the day she stopped telling him that she was not his lovey would be a day for celebration. It wasn't though.

Rosto had not seen much of Beka at all lately, she stopped coming to breakfasts at the Dove. Dinners there became more rare also, and it probably had something to do with that Dog. Holborn. They had met in some sarden brawl and now suddenly months later, Rosto was seeing entirely too much of that cove. He was loud, and cheerful and made Beka laugh and he talked enough for the both of them. Enough that he never heard Beka anymore. So he determined to ambush her after watch again before she could get back to her boarding house. He was waiting outside the kennel when she got off watch, and fortunately for him she was not with the old dog (for he was old, older than Rosto...and suddenly she didn't mind.)

"There's my lovey," he said, falling into step with her as she headed home, "if it weren't for all my rats still getting hobbled, we'd never know you were still around." She smiled half-heartedly and said nothing.

"Luv," he asked, "what's wrong?"

She looked up as if just realizing he was there and smiled brightly. It was strange and didn't seem quite genuine. "Nothing's wrong, Rosto, I have to go," she said pointedly changing course and heading away from him. He puzzled over her behavior during his walk back to the dove. She hadn't argued with him or threatened him, had seemed reluctant to speak at all. Neither was she being particularly friendly. She just seemed to look right through him. He waited for her to come home from watch, she shouldn't be far behind. It was some time before she arrived, in the company of that dog again. He heard the man's gregarious laughter before they came into view. He was talking excitedly and laughing and Rosto was relieved in spite of himself that everything seemed fine. Still something was wrong. Beka didn't say a word, at least not while he could see her before they disappeared into the boarding house.

It only made sense to have someone keep an eye on the boarding house while he was in court. Something was going on and it was his responsibility as Rogue to know what it was. (If he kept telling himself that maybe eventually it would be true.) Thanks to that brilliant idea he found himself in possession of one key piece of information later that night. Holborn wasn't leaving.

His blood boiled. Holborn didn't know Beka, and she hardly knew him...Not that it mattered. Beka Cooper could, and would, do whatever she wanted and so would he. He would have his pick of the ladies tonight, and that would show her. (It won't though, not if she doesn't know, not if she doesn't care) No mots with dark blonde hair, that was for sure. (Not that they looked anything like her, those eyes, those sarden eyes.) Red-head it is. When he finally retired he made no secret of inviting the girl to come with him. She giggled obnoxiously- no adorably, giggled adorably and followed him.

He still seethed but the doxie had no way of knowing that. Rosto knew how to play; just the right combination of compliments and distance, of touches and indifference and by the time the girl reached his room she was blushing dark enough to rival her locks. A nice skill to have, he considered coldly, for he was quite certain that no dalliance would really be enough to make this girl blush. He pressed against her as he unlocked the door and she was responding already. Kissing her soundly as he pushed the door in, they nearly collapsed into his room. He turned towards the door to lock it behind him before suddenly deciding that that would be unnecessary as he pinned the mot against the door.

She giggled again and he quickly turned her giggles into breathless sighs. Not because she had an obnoxious giggle, of course. "I love a man who knows what he wants," she whispers in his ear in a sultry voice, but it doesn't have quite the effect she intends and Rosto freezes in place, icy eyes filling his mind once more. Could he not be rid of her for even a moment? He takes a step back, ignoring the mots confused pout, as if he didn't know better. She was teasing him just like he was teasing her. He sighed.

"You're going to want to be leaving now, I've just recalled another engagement for the evening."

She paused momentarily, probably trying to decide whether a breathy whine would change his mind, but his eyes were hard and cold, and she wasn't so sure she wanted to be here anymore anyway.

He slammed his fist against the door after she left and the solid wood splintered just barely. He needed a better door. He was not going to think about Beka Cooper, not going to think about the fact that her newest suitor was still there. He wasn't... It was going to be a long night, and he needed a stronger door.

* * *

Rosto spent many more nights not thinking of Beka Cooper. Not long after that first night the happy couple suddenly announced their engagement. (They didn't so much as he did, but she wore the ring, so she must have said yes.) Another bad night, another new door. Beka had stopped visiting the Dove entirely, cut herself off from her friends there and even from those not associated with the court. When she did have to converse with people it was like she didn't know how anymore. And it was no wonder. Rosto saw them together sometimes. Holborn laughed and talked and Beka didn't laugh with him anymore. She smiled little half smiles but soon even theses faded into memory. Holborn still laughed, but his laugh grew cold. His jokes were now at Beka's expense and he seemed constantly determined to act the part of a senior dog with his puppy despite the fact that it was Beka's name known throughout the city. Then Rosto's life started getting easier. Beka wasn't hobbling as many rats. For a short time that placated Holborn... but not for long.

Rosto tried to talk to Beka but she wasn't interested. She didn't argue, didn't banter, just ignored him for the most part glancing around to see if anyone was looking - as if she was afraid of something.

Beka left her window opened for the pigeons sometimes, so it didn't take long for Rosto to notice the raised voices that spilled out from her rooms onto the street. Whenever he went by the boarding house he heard some kind of argument. They argued about who she spoke to, how she acted on her watches, rats that she had brought in and perhaps shouldn't have, pickpockets she had let go that should have been brought in... Rosto expected her voice to come back then, but if anything she just got quieter. Finally one day he caught up to her during watch, interrupting a chase to grab her wrist ask her if she was all right.

"Good, Rosto, I'm working."

"You're not good, Beka, why are you letting him-"

"This is none of your concern, Rosto, and I don't need your help. I can take care of myself."

She stalked away as he realized sadly that this was the most he'd heard her voice in months.

So he tries an alternate approach. Waiting outside her boarding house and 'congratulating' a very drunk Holborn on his engagement when he emerged after a particularly heated argument. Rosto reminded the Dog that there were people who were quite invested in making sure that Beka Cooper was happy.

Antagonism was doing no good, at least not so long as Rosto refused to actually harm the cove...so Rosto pretended to like him, pretended not to know.

Deniability.

If he hurt Beka though ... Rosto began to contemplate very seriously what he would do if he ever caught Holborn hurting Beka physically. Would that shake her out of her reverie, would she deal with it on her own? Would Rosto have to deal with it or have it dealt with? Perhaps she wasn't willing to go there, but he was more than willing. She would never forgive him, of course, but no one touched their mot like that within view of his court. The fact that it was Beka had nothing to do with it. Almost nothing to do with it...

Holborn's behavior became increasingly erratic as he constantly tried to defeat Beka in the imaginary contest that they were having. He always had to be better, stronger, smarter than Beka. Holborn began to take stupid risks, engage in useless theatrics for the attention they brought him. Then one day Rosto began to hear rumors of illegal slave auctions starting up in the city. They weren't of his design, he'd have no piece of them anymore than he would touch coles. Still he heard the rumors. The dogs did as well but didn't have enough information to move in on them. Holborn started asking questions and he gradually gathered enough information to guess where one of the auctions was happening. Rosto suspected it was a chance he couldn't bear to miss. The glory of taking down a slave ring on his own. Rosto didn't yet know where it was going to take place, but he did not fool himself, he could have found out. Instead he kept his distance only watching to be sure that Beka was home safely that night.

When the news came the next day Rosto was not entirely surprised, but he felt no guilt. Holborn had been in over his head, time and time again for months now, and Rosto would not feel guilty for not making it his job to keep Holborn from doing something stupid. In the next few weeks though, he almost felt guilty. Beka stayed quiet, moved out of their rooms and Aniki and Kora watched over her at night when nightmares plagued her. Perhaps he should have kept a closer eye on Holborn, for her sake. Then he remembered the mad look of hotblood wine in Holborn's eyes. It was for her sake that he hadn't, and the guilt all but disappeared again. For weeks he kept watch over Beka, as did Aniki and Kora, even Goodwin. They brought her food, made sure she ate it and were there for her when the nightmares came.

The numbers of hobbled rats began to rise again and Rosto could never admit how unreasonably happy that made him. She started to talk to him again and he told her it wasn't her fault. She already knew it, but she needed to hear it from someone else.

One day the light broke through the clouds, a peak of glimmering hope amongst the grey.

"Hey there, luv, save some apple pasty for the rest of us," he teased her gently at breakfast.

"I'm not your luv, Rosto, and I've got no time for white-haired loobies."

He was only grinning because she was distracted from that last apple pasty. It had nothing to do with the spark in her eyes. Almost nothing to do with it...


End file.
